Beep... Beep... Beep.
The constant beeping of the heart monitor was a familiar sound in the sterile Operating Theater.
Elias Carter was lost in concentration. His brows furrowed, and his hands moved with the precision of a skilled surgeon. He was known for his steady hands—magical hands, as some called them—the man who never failed to save his patients.
A young man, barely reaching his teenage years and still very much a child, lay on the operating table. He was anesthetized, with his chest open and blood pooling deep into his chest cavity. The scene was worse than Elias expected.
"Scalpel," his voice sliced through the tension. Without hesitation, the nurse placed the instrument in his waiting hand.
He exhaled, focused and prepared to make the incision when—
BEEP... BEEP... BEEP...
The heart monitor screamed a warning.
"BP's dropping!! 80 over 50!" The anesthesiologist exclaimed, his voice full of alarm. "Heart rate 120 and erratic!!"
The boy was crashing.
"Suction!" Elias reacted immediately.
As the nurse applied the suction, he carefully probed the damaged tissue with his fingertips until he found the source of the arterial bleed.
"Got it!!" His voice was low and firm. "Clamp!!"
The surgical assistant was already there, properly positioning the clamp. A tense silence followed as the bleeding slowed and the crisis was momentarily contained.
"Vitals stabilizing," the anesthesiologist noted. "BP's 95 over 60. Heart rate is still elevated, but it's a regular rhythm now."
Phew....
The danger had passed, for now, but the battle was far from over. They still need to restore the injured organs and the shattered ribs. There was still a lot to fix.
The kid had a long road ahead.
"He's not going down without a fight, this one," a young resident said. "Most people wouldn't have made it this far."
"He's lucky really..." the nurse murmured, her voice soft with admiration. "He's lucky that Dr. Carter was on call tonight."
Elias looked up with a smile. "It wasn't just me, though; it was a team effort." He corrected, his tone soft yet firm. "We all played a part here."
He was a talented man; everyone at Mount Sinai Hospital knew it. But he was never one to take credit for himself. He always made a point of recognizing the contribution of his team or his colleagues.
"Alright, everyone!" Elias said, turning back to the operating table. "Less talking, more saving lives, please."
They resumed the operation with a newfound purpose to give this kid a second chance at life. They worked hard through the day till the final light of day.
Elias finally stepped back from the operating table, sleepy and tired, but satisfaction evident in his eyes. "We're done here," he declared with a rough voice. "Close him up."
His team quickly and efficiently started the final phase of the surgery.
He was proud of them and proud of himself. Another life saved, another victory against mortality. The long hours and constant pressure were worth it. He was, after all, a healer; that was his calling.
Elias scrubbed out and changed before making his way to the waiting area. The kid's family had been waiting the entire day. He could clearly see the worry and fear lurking in their eyes. They looked up as he walked in; a mix of optimism and possibly a little trepidation was on their faces.
"Doctor... how..." the boy's mother asked, her voice shaking. "How is my son?"
Elias offered her a reassuring smile. "The surgery went well," he said. "It was touch and go for a moment, but he's stable and survived despite his condition."
She let forth a joyful sob. "Thank you... thank you, doctor..." was all she could manage.
The boy's father grasped Elias's hand. "You saved my son. I...I'm not sure how to repay you, doctor." He spoke with unshed tears in his eyes.
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"There's no need to repay me anything," he added kindly. "Your son is in recovery right now; the nurses will let you know when he's ready for visitors."
Elias understood that his job was more than stitching wounds or setting bones. It was also about giving hope. Another life he saved meant keeping a family whole, reuniting children with their parents, and sparing a loved ones from grief.
Finally, he excused himself and walked back to his office.
"Another successful surgery, Dr. Carter?" asked a passing intern.
"Thankfully yes... but I'm spent." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. It was now that exhaustion really struck him. "I swear, I'm going to sleep the entire night!"
The intern chuckled. "Well... have a nice nap then, Doctor; let's hope nothing major happen tonight."
"Hey... don't jinx it!". He shot her a wary look.
Elias stepped into his small, sparsely furnished office and sank into his chair. The night had been long, but his work was not over. No... what followed were reports and patient updates. The less glamorous side of being a doctor.
Again, with a deep breath, he turned on his computer and began typing.
Hours slipped by. His sight was blurry, and his eyelids were heavy. He tried so hard to resist the need to sleep, yet his mind said otherwise.
And the unprecedented happened next, he was standing at the edge of a cliff. A wide ocean stretched out before him.
What the....
He knew it was a dream because the water mirrored a sky of colors—crimson, gold, violet, and emerald—swirled together in a chaotic and mesmerizing way.
A gust blew in from the ocean, dense with something much... much older than the time itself—a presence that crawled beneath the skin and hummed in the bones. The air trembled with a deep and resonant thrum that was somewhere between sound and quiet.
Then he saw them, rose from the churning depth. Collosal figures, their form shifted in a flowed and twisted colors—emerald, sapphire, and amethyst—like oil on water, or light breaking through glass.
They were immense being, yet elusive, their edges flickering, dissolving, then reconstructing, as if the water itself was striving to keep them in place. Their eyes burned—not with fire, but with an old and knowing brilliance. And yet, they swayed, stuck between presence and oblivion.
One figure, bathed in golden light stretched a trembling hand to him. Its dazzling eyes sparkled—not with anger or fear, but with something deeper, unspoken. Its lips moved, but the air around him altered, conveying a faint whispers—names he couldn't recognize, echoes of triumphs and tragedies long forgotten.
Elias felt a weight in his chest, a pain he couldn't understand, as if he was standing at the bedside of a patient he couldn't cure. The sorrow wasn't his, but it wrapped around him.
Instinctively he reached his hand through the thick golden glow. His fingers brushed against the figure's outstretched hand. But there was nothing solid, simply a smoke passing his grasp.
"Who...who are you?" Elias asked, his voice wavering slightly in the face of such immense force and sadness.
The golden figure flickered, its light fading like the last embers of a dying fire. Shadows crept over its body, absorbing the light, only for it to flare up again, determined to fight the darkness.
Then he heard it. A voice so ancient and substantial, like a wind through brittle autumn forest leaves.
We...are fading...
The words passed through him, hollow and distant. A heavy aching settled in his chest, and an unbearable sense of loss pressed between his ribs.
The world...forgets...
Another figure dropped from the swirling vortex above. It was humanoid, but shrouded in shadow, its eyes glowing crimson. Elias was instantly overcome with dread, a primal fear he had never felt before.
the crimson-eyed figure blurred forward like a streak of darknees cutting through the air. The golden figure barely had time to react before a crushing blow sent it sprawling. The shadows swallowed the light as the golden form shuddered.
No....
Cracks ran like veins of fire over the golden figure's body. A single fragile flame flashed in its chest before it crumbled to dust.
Nooo...
The shadow figure straightened itself, towering over him, its crimson eyes fixed on him. A stiffling presence filled the space between them, like an unseen weight pressing on his ribcage.
Then it spoke, its voice creeping into his bones, dry as a whisper, but keen as a knife.
They are weak..... Their time is up.
The shadow figure loomed over him—then nothing.
He startled awake, a piercing gasp escaping his throat. His pulse was thundering in his ears. Cold sweat slicked his skin, leaving his scrub moist and clinging uncomfortably.
"What......" Elias's brow furrowed, his gaze darting around in confussion.
Beeppp.... Beeppp.... Beeppp....
The constant, loud buzzing of his pager cut through the haze of his dream. He fumbled for the device with his heart still racing from the vivid visions in his head.
Squinting at the little screen, he read the message: "MASS CASUALTY INCIDENT. BUILDING FIRE. ALL HANDS ON DECK."
He ran his hand down his face and exhaled sharply. "Unbelievable...!" he said. She just had to jinxed it, didn't she.
He checked his watch, and it was 11:30 PM.
He sprang from of his chair, grabbed his white coat and rushed out of the office. The hallways, which are usually quiet at this late hour, were already alive with activities. Nurses and orderlies dashed past him with purposes.
As he pushed through the double doors into the Emergency, a mayhem unfurled before him. Gurneys were wheeled in at a frenzied pace, each carrying a burning victim.
The smell of smoke assaulted his nostrils, mixed with the sickeningly sweet coppery blood that hung heavy in the air. Moans of pain and anguish echoed while a nurse bellowed orders with such powers that even an experienced doctors straightened their spines.
"Move...move...move!!! Unless you want to be my next patient!" She barked, just avoiding a collision with an orderly who appeared to be one coffee away from resigning.
"What have we got?" Elias inquired, his gaze sweeping across the scene as he neared the triage area.
"Apartment fire, looks like it started on the lower floors and spread quickly," a frantic-looking nurse replied, her voice straining. "We've got everything from crispy eyebrow to full-blown charcoal. We've also got people jumping from the window. We're overwhelmed, Doctor."
Elias clapped his hand once, sharp and decisive, cutting through the confussion like a knife. "Alright listen up!!" His voice cut through the commotion.
"First and foremost, anyone with severe burns or who is having difficulty breathing!! Everyone else, stabilize and triage—no one will be left behind!!"
He moved fast, his gaze shifted from one patient to the next. His trained eyes catching the shallow rise and fall of a chest here, and the pale lips of someone gasping for oxygen there.
A young woman wheezed through burnt lips, and he pointed. "Airway's compromised—get her on oxygen now!!"
A man clutched his arm and whimpered, his flesh crimson but pretty much intact. Elias barely spared him a glance. "Pain meds and dress it, he can wait!"
Elias was not just barking orders. He was making a split-second decision that may mean the difference between life and death. And he didn't want to lose anyone tonight—not on his watch.
Then his gaze fell on a young woman on a gurney, her skin burned and areas of raw flesh visible beneath the burns. Her breathing was weak, and her body trembled.
"She needs the OR now!!!" He barked. "60 percent burn over her body—she's in shock. Prep her for surgery, stat!"
He moved on to another patient, an older man slumped against a gurney with his chest rising in erratic bursts. His lips had the dusky hue, and Elias recognized it instantly.
"Oxygen and IV, stat!" he ordered. "Heavy smoke inhalation, watch for carbon monoxide poisoning!"
He saw a little girl next and his gaze softened. The girl sat on the edge of a stretcher, her tiny frame trembled, and her face blackened by soot except for two wide, terrified eyes. She hold a teddy bear, and her breaths hiccuping in little gasps.
He kneeled beside her and smiled reassuringly. "Hey kiddo," he said, his hands carefully inspecting her arms. "You've got a brave face there. Let's get you a bed, some medicine, and perhaps a popsicle if you're lucky."
The girl sniffled but nodded, knowing she was in good hands.
Suddenly, a scene grabbed Elias' attention like a hook to his gut. A gurney passed by, carrying a little boy no older than eight, his body quivering, and his breath came in fast, shallow gasps.
A sharp piece of glass protruded from his little abdomen. Blood oozed through his ripped clothes and spilled across the linens. He gripped the nurse's hand, fingers sticky with his own blood, mouth quivering but no sound came out.
Elias' pulse quickened. It was a miracle that the boy was still conscious.
He sprung into action. "Trauma Bay 3!!!" His voice sliced through the noise. He stepped alongside the gurney, his gaze fixed on the protruding glass.
He turned to a nurse. "Page the pediatric surgeon, tell him that we have a profound abdominal impalement with likely multi-organ involvement. We need an OR prepped yesterday!"
The nurse nodded and hurried away.
Elias kept up with the team, his hand already hovering over the boy, desperate to do something—anything—to keep him alive.